


Unsaid Words and Unsung Hurts

by LadyHallen



Series: This is your fault, Ms. Jellyfish! [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angst, Cor's Patience, Don't repost, F/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, body image issues, body issues, do not copy to another site, preening, prepare tissues, sansa and insecurity are best friends, various oc's - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHallen/pseuds/LadyHallen
Summary: Sansa had a problem.Sitting across her arch nemesis Sansa felt her stomach flutter and scowled.
Relationships: Cor Leonis/Sansa Stark, Jeyne Poole & Sansa Stark
Series: This is your fault, Ms. Jellyfish! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982642
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	Unsaid Words and Unsung Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be crack.
> 
> *looks at all the other tags*
> 
> It is not crack.

Sansa had a problem.

Sitting across her arch nemesis - her assignment and trying not to stare so obviously, Sansa felt her stomach flutter and scowled.

She was not supposed to feel those annoying fluttering’s. It had been going on for decades now, and she wanted no part in it.

Being a demon of hell, one of Lucifer’s generals, technically, meant that she had no time or place for dwelling on feelings, good or otherwise. Lucifer, or Ramsay, as he’d taken to calling himself these days, had named Sansa the demon of hatred and that meant she didn’t have feelings of the sweet and fluttery kind.

Sansa slumped in her chair, ignoring the angel’s look of admonishment at her posture. His own back was ram rod straight, but somehow conveying relaxation as he slowly and methodically consumed a chocolate truffle.

“Angel,” she sighed. “Any adventures you’re going to get up to, today?”

“It’s called good deeds, Sansa,” he told her, somehow not sounding condescending. He sounded gentle and stern. As he always did. It did terrible things to Sansa’s stomach, must be the ulcers making it flutter.

Right.

Sansa sighed again, quieter this time. She would leave in a moment, she thought while staring at Cor’s lovely blue-gray eyes and punishing herself. She would leave. Just...until Cor finished eating. It would be rude otherwise.

.

* * *

.

Sansa hadn’t meant to fall, is the thing.

She hadn’t been Sansa then, but with a different, more angelic name. Working under the lovely angel Raphael and being compassionate. What an angel of compassion was supposed to do, Sansa always wondered.

Raphael had encouraged her to make more friends and Sansa had agreed. Free will wasn’t quite a thing, merely a concept that Father had brought up in the weekly meetings and whatever Raphael ordered, she would always do.

So she roamed around, looking for friends. Groups of angels congregating, was still the description, because that’s what friends did? Sansa hadn’t been sure then.

She’d joined the first group of angels congregating and talked to them.

They were nice, Samael and nir friends. They welcomed her readily with bright smiles and heady laughter. Too bright she would realize later. Too sharp edges carefully hidden away from the newbie.

She hung around them because they always made her feel welcome and Sansa adored them for listening to her questions and her confusion about compassion.

“What is compassion?” she would ask the archangels.

“It is concern for misfortune,” Father told her when all her siblings couldn’t answer.

“What is misfortune?” she asked Samael, because even then, Sansa had tact not to ask God that.

“It is the absence of God,” Samael’s friend would answer.

How can there be an absence of God, when God was everywhere? She wondered then.

After being cast out simply for being with her friends at the wrong time and place, Sansa understood. There can be an absence of God, for God had abandoned her.

.

* * *

.

Sansa’s best work, so far in Eos, was traffic jams.

No matter how hard city planning worked to keep the cars moving fast, Sansa always managed an inconvenience that made people curse and work up a temper, damning their souls.

Once, she’d short circuited connections in all the banks in the entire world, causing a drop in the market. The amount of chaotic fury she’d felt that day made her laugh, even as guilt shimmered in her stomach.

Cor had looked at her and sighed that day and Sansa had wanted to cry. If demons could cry.

Sansa still caused tempers to go high, hatred to go up, simply because she existed in their general vicinity. She tried to tamp it down just to enjoy a bit of light reading, but inevitably, there would be an argument by someone or the other and she would have to leave to work off the excess energy.

Cor helped, simply because, as angel, he radiated such immense goodness that they balanced each other out.

That was what Cor had told her when he’d hunted her down in Accordo during the executions and her mere arrival in the city had incited the mobs to tear apart their king limb from limb with their bare hands.

She’d wept with relief when he left her, but still stayed in her general area. She had watched that King die and felt his fear, his hatred and wanted to vomit. She never wanted it to happen again.

Cor helped. Maybe that’s why her stomach started those strange convulsions and fluttering’s.

.

* * *

.

The Fall started, not with anger, as the bible like to say, but with a question.

Samael asked, “Why should we care for these lesser creatures? Look at all their imperfections!”

God talked and Samael argued. Angels and archangels gathered around and Sansa hovered near her friends, confused, frightened. Because Samael’s white wings were changing. The symbol of his soul, his very existence, was changing.

After that very blasphemous debate, God cast out Samael and ripped nir’s name away.

Sansa’s Fall was not quite so dramatic, just quieter.

Raphael, always doting on Sansa, had tried to tug her away. But she’d stayed. Confused but loyal, she’d stayed.

“My friends,” she said, tugging at the hand Raphael had on her.

Raphael had eyed her wings and gasped in horror.

“Then you have betrayed us all as well,” her dearest mentor whispered in grief.

The gates of Heaven opened and the command entered the Psyche of all the angels. To toss out the betrayers.

Without concept of free will, siblings turned on siblings and obeyed. Raphael as well, despite nir’s reluctance.

Sansa was one of the last, and all heard her scream out in despair, “Father! I don’t understand!”

Her scream followed her as she fell through the ether and into the depths of despair. God had indeed abandoned them.

.

* * *

.

Cor liked to visit the orphanages in the city since his mentor, the Archangel Michael had taught him to guard the children.

Sansa, of course, had followed him around for good deeds to thwart at first. Then, it turned out, it was exceedingly difficult to thwart that good deed. How was Sansa supposed to subvert children? Children had malleable souls, true, but that also meant that they had their own guardians and Cor himself being there…

Sansa should have deemed it a lost cause. Except.

Except…

Sometimes, when Sansa had no sins planned that day, she would watch Cor playing with the children and _ached._

.

* * *

.

All of the Fallen woke at differing intervals, wings trembling and limbs malformed.

Sansa herself had found she had deformed jaws to make way for her newly large teeth. Like a wolf. Her own beautiful white wings had burned on the way down, the color turning into burning ember, flames of her anger licking the feathers, a fire that never died.

It hurt.

All of it hurt, all of their souls did. A change that happened like that, no matter how sturdy their very beings were, still ached. They were beings of perfection, formed without blemish. They were not made for changes. Their very psyche rebelled against it.

There was also the absence of their Father to contend with. For the first time in millennia, they were without him.

There was a great cry that rose up then, a great weeping.

Sansa stood up and howled her agony, her pain and her rage.

Everyone followed with their own screams, and perhaps it was because of that howl that none of the Fallen succumb to their despair.

Lucifer stood in the ashes of Samael and Sansa looked to him as did everyone, because while his wings were black, his eyes still shone with the light of creation. He, among all of them, had Light. Perhaps he led them to their downfall, but he also shone with the familiarity of home.

.

* * *

.

Sansa had a guilty secret from the forces of hell.

She loved to sew, to embroider.

Runes of protection, runes of love. Not Enochian, because no human made cloth could hold that majestic language, but the old Language of Solheim. It was enough to warm the cloth for winter and Sansa would drop it in strategic places where the homeless slept.

Sansa didn’t really care about the homeless, she just needed somewhere to dump old projects. She hated clutter and her apartment had very little space.

Cor was not to know.

Sansa sewed and did it without heaven or hell knowing.

.

Sansa and Cor had ‘dates’.

Well, Cor called it Equilibrium Meetings, to balance out Sansa’s aura. Sansa called it dates in her mind, because she loved to torture herself.

Cor sat across her and read a book and Sansa muttered irritably about Cor’s book. If he was reading, he wasn’t looking at her and she couldn’t see his lovely eyes. An irritated Cor would have eyes that flashed with his anger and divine light. It made his already lovely features breathtaking.

Then…

“What are you reading?” Sansa said, her usual question during the start of the meetings.

“Wolves, and how to take care of them,” Cor said in his lovely voice.

Sansa felt her metaphorical ruff stand up. Her more wolf-like features were hidden under carefully sewn glamours, but she and the wolf were one, he never went away.

“Are you thinking of getting a pet?” Sansa asked despite herself.

Cor looked at her, just a second of his attention, but Sansa felt it. “I don’t think you’d like it if I did,” Cor said.

Was he implying…? Sansa did not know what he was implying, but it was probably nothing good.

“’Wolves are cunning and extremely intelligent’,” Cor suddenly said, reading from the book. “’Some wolf hybrids are docile but most and all wolves are stronger, smarter and more independent than dogs.’” He snorted. “Smart indeed.”

Sansa, who had relaxed listening to his lovely voice, bristled again. “Are you implying that wolves are dumb?” she demanded.

He smiled, that quicksilver flash of humor that vanished quickly. “So dumb.”

Sansa raised her nose into the air in offense, turning away from him. Her stomach fluttered like mad when she heard him laugh.

Sansa felt her insides melt.

.

* * *

.

Lucifer was their rock in the strange new world they’d found themselves in, but soon, his very presence turned Sansa’s stomach.

She hated the sight of his eyes, for they reminded her of Father and the complete and utter absence of him.

“There is a new world that Father has created,” Sansa told Lucifer eventually, when she could no longer bear the sight of him. “I wish to corrupt it.”

Lucifer smiled. “Of course, my dear. I thought you would volunteer for it, your hatred still burns in you.”

He referred, of course, to the flames that danced in Sansa’s deep red wings.

Sansa climbed out of hell and met Cor.

That he didn’t immediately draw his sword was perhaps due to his mercy.

But Sansa was all out of mercy and attacked him immediately in rage.

.

* * *

.

Jeyne was, perhaps, Sansa’s only true friend.

That she was a wolf-child, borne of Sansa’s blood when she bled for the first time, was irrelevant. The child immediately decided to be Sansa’s friend.

A millennia of companionship and Jeyne had _ideas_ about Cor.

“How was your date?” Jeyne asked.

Sansa harrumphed. “It was not a date, as I keep telling you. It is to mitigate my aura.”

Jeyne rolled her eyes. “Excuses. Did you enjoy yourself at least?”

Sansa couldn’t help the blush. Jeyne cackled and Sansa strategically retreated to her room. Sansa would own to being a coward and she had no shame in retreating.

.

In one of Sansa’s once a week schedule for chaos, she caused a shortage of coffee and switched what was available to decaf.

This time, the outcry made her laugh until tears dripped from her eyes.

“Inspired,” she giggled. “Their outrage.”

Cor landed outside of Sansa’s balcony and she would swear she didn’t squeak.

“Angel!” she exclaimed. “Hi.”

He leveled an unimpressed look at her. “I was drinking coffee. Sansa. I was enjoying my coffee.”

She giggled. “Perhaps it is time for you to switch to tea? I have some lovely chocolate tea you can try. May I tempt you with some?”

He softened, winching back his wings. “Alright. It better be good. I _liked_ that coffee.”

She served him tea with a smile and he smiled back. The fluttering’s increased.

Oh no.

.

* * *

.

Cor talked her down from her anger.

It took ages and ages before she would show him her back and even then it made the hairs at the back of her neck prickle.

It was worth it though, because for the first time, someone preened Sansa’s wings.

She would never trust anyone in hell with her wings and her wolf-child didn’t know the first thing about wings. Cor, angel and tentatively trusted, knew to work the down into her feathers and to pluck the ones that needed loosing.

She settled into a puddle of contented demon on his lap and felt Cor turn stiff.

Immediately, Sansa launched herself away from him.

She had made him uncomfortable.

She thought.

She thought he didn’t mind her mouthful of fangs. Of the extra ribs that made her lungs bigger and more suitable for howling.

He minded. By the look in his face, he minded very much.

After that, Sansa never allowed Cor to touch more than her wings. If her body made him uncomfortable, then she would just hide her body from him.

.

* * *

.

During one of their not-dates, as Jeyne had taken to calling it, Cor held her hand.

Sansa was so stiff, he could have shattered her if he pushed her over.

“Cor, what are you doing?” she asked quietly.

Equally quietly, he said, “I’m holding your hand.”

Sansa took in a breath. Held it. Let it out through shuddering lungs.

“Alright,” she whispered.

“Shall I let go?” he asked.

Her grip tightened. “No, it’s alright.”

“It’s alright,” he agreed.

.

* * *

.

For a decade, Sansa ran away from Cor.

After that disastrous preening, Sansa ran and didn’t look back.

She caused several disasters without looking and hid away from Cor for a decade.

It took a few more years before she would trust him again and he touched her gently, almost achingly gently.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” she replied.

She didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but Sansa was sorry.

Sorry for falling, and sorry for making him uncomfortable.

Cor’s eyes burned with the light of creation and Sansa just hurt.

.

* * *

.

When Cor locked the window, Sansa was suspicious.

When Cor sat her down and asked, “May I kiss you,” Sansa wanted to run. So that’s why he locked the window. But there was still the door.

“Sansa,” he said, tugging at her hand, held loosely in his large one, where she can escape if she really wanted. “Centuries ago, during that first preening,” he said, finally talking about that moment, where he turned away from her in disgust.

Sansa turned stiff and tensed, ready to launch herself out of the window and damn the glass.

“No wait, listen,” he pleaded. “I haven’t. I wanted to touch you for ages, long before you fell and when I saw you again, I thought I was dreaming.”

“You’re serious?” she said through numb lips.

“I’ve loved you since you were following around Raphael in heaven!” he exclaimed. “Of course I don’t mind your extra additions, your teeth are lovely now too!”

Sansa wasn’t sure what size her eyes were, but she was sure they were wide. “I thought. We, heaven that is, were sure that you and the rest of the Fallen were dead. Then I saw you climb out of that hole and I was so happy, I could have cried,” he said. “You were still you, but you were different. I loved you still, and I wanted to know you again.”

“You were stiff,” she said. Sansa doesn’t know how she keeps talking.

“Because you were adorable and I wanted to hug you!” he said seriously. “I had to hold back. And then you ran away. For ten years!”

Sansa just. Blinked at him in surprise.

“So, may I kiss you?” he asked.

 _May I kiss you?_ Sansa thought incredulously. Is he serious????

Sansa climbed into his lap and carefully kissed him.

And Cor. Cor, battle angel and Michael’s right hand man, _melted._

_._

Later, much later, Sansa curled around Cor and sighed in contentment.

"A demon of hatred is not made for love," she whispered to him in secret.

He did not tense, but he said, in a careful tone of voice that he really wanted to punch somebody, "A demon of hatred, you are not,"

"But what is the opposite of compassion, if not for hatred?" she asked irritably. She liked debates as much as the next demon, but she was settling into a nice cuddling!

He smiled at her, rendering her brain momentarily blank. "Sansa, my love. The opposite of compassion, is apathy. Compassion means you care so much. Apathy being that you care for nothing at all. You are many things, but you are the most caring demon I have ever met."

Sansa warred with feeling offence or relief. 

"Excuse me, I am a demon, I do not care," she said.

"Yes, yes," he agreed, patting her hair and making her purr.

Sansa gave a quiet harrumph and settled back down.

**Author's Note:**

> Why is 2, 800 words slow burn? Well, it lasted 6,000 years. Its freaking slow burn.
> 
> Sansa's wings are hecking cool, it's permanently on fire, and it burns everything Sansa hates. And Cor can touch it. *swoon* (Thank you, Ms. Jellyfish, for this idea.)
> 
> Sometimes, romance is a candlelit dinner and quiet music. And sometimes, romance is letting your arch-nemesis touch your wings and not letting it burn him.
> 
> Comments please!


End file.
